


Luka Loves Snow Days

by verfound



Series: The House Band [6]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Couffaine Family, Couffaine Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Family Fluff, House Band, LBSC secret santa 2020, Snow Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Luka loves snow days.  Snow days mean sleeping in, and snuggles with his wife, and staying in bed all day because they have nowhere else to be…or at least they used to.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: The House Band [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920622
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Luka Loves Snow Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feminaexlux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminaexlux/gifts).



> We did an in-house, OG LBSC Secret Santa, aaaaand I got LANI! She asked for “sleeping in”, “snow day & snuggles”, and “hot chocolate” – I tried to hit all of ‘em. This was just rambly fluff, and then the House Band snuck in and I’m pretty sure it became tooth-rotting fluff instead. xD

Luka liked Tuesdays.

His schedule pandered to late nights and later mornings, with most of his work commitments being on the weekends. He usually worked Thursday nights through Sundays, with Mondays through Wednesdays finding him in the studio or promoting the latest project somewhere. Touring got even crazier, but he tried to keep the touring to the summer – at least the international tours. Falls and winters kept him closer to home, playing local venues or committing to weekend gigs. Tuesdays were great, though. He wasn’t hungover (metaphorically, though sometimes literally) from the weekend like he was on Mondays, and he went into the studio later in the afternoon, so he got to sleep in on Tuesdays.

Marinette had made her schedule match his Tuesdays years ago, so she went into the office later on Tuesdays, too. Most times any more she just worked from home on Tuesdays. Her job, except on weekend nights when she had showcases or some function to attend, usually pandered to early mornings. Even when she was just an intern, she was usually the first one at the offices to meet the early-morning deliveries. After so many years she was just used to it, and once she’d started her own fashion house she was the only one she fully trusted receiving the shipments. He remembered well enough all the years of oversleeping, when school and her growing body and Ladybug duties left her too tired to deal with early mornings, but those days seemed long behind her now. She wasn’t exactly what he’d call an _early bird_ , but she was certainly a lot earlier than he was.

She also worked as Jagged’s official tour stylist (which also made her Luka’s official tour stylist), so she usually went on the road with them, anyway. Touring was always better when he could share his bunk and hotel room with his wife.

But there were many days on the off-season, when his schedule was committed to late nights and hers early mornings, when he was just crawling into bed when she was getting up. They’d share a parting kiss, but then she would be gone and he would be left in their bed, which was still warm with a pillow that smelled like her but was, ultimately, still empty. Lonely.

Except on Tuesdays.

So Luka _loved_ Tuesdays, because Tuesdays meant sleeping in. Tuesdays meant waking up to an armful of Marinette. Tuesdays meant lazy kisses, and lazier lovemaking, and hushed, giggly conversations as they basked in the afterglow. Tuesdays were _awesome_.

Snow days were like Tuesdays. Luka loved snow days, too.

(…now that he was an adult and not living on a boat and didn’t have to spend the majority of the storm shoveling snow off the deck.)

Because snow days meant it was too perilous to travel to work, and the office and studio were shut down, and Marinette stayed in bed longer. And depending when the storm hit, Luka was either coming home earlier or not leaving the next day, and Marinette was there when he crawled into bed, and instead of pulling away to leave with a goodbye kiss she would cuddle closer. Her lips would still find his, but the kisses were longer, slower, deeper. He would find himself on his back, and Marinette would crawl on top of him, and they’d lose themselves in each other as the snow blanketed the world outside their little flat.

Snow days rocked, too.

That particular snow day had come as a surprise, but only because Luka hadn’t really been paying attention to the weather. He’d noticed it was cold, and he’d maybe noticed there was a particular bite to the air, but he hadn’t actively been thinking _snow_ when Marinette had looped his scarf around his neck and stretched up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, telling him to _stay safe out there_. The band had been halfway through sound check when the manager had come down to tell them they’d have to reschedule: it had been snowing for half an hour already, it was coming down fast, and the roads were already icing.

“I was really hoping it would skip us,” he’d sighed, rubbing his hands down his face, “but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. It’d be irresponsible to expect people to show up in this, and you all should be getting home before it gets much worse.”

Luka had already started packing Claire up, barely listening to the man as he said he’d call Penny to straighten out another date. He’d been on the metro when he got the text from Penny telling him the next night had been bagged, too.

Which is what found him bursting through his front door maybe ten minutes later, his boots skidding along the hardwood from the melting snow clinging to his soles. He caught himself on the doorway to the kitchen, a toothy grin splitting his face when he saw Marinette waiting there with two steaming mugs of Marinette Special hot chocolate.

“Snow day,” he breathed, and he waited just long enough that she could set the mugs on the counter before he caught her up in his arms, spinning her around with a laugh. She clung to his neck, tucking her face against his shoulder to muffle her own giggles. When he stopped, he leaned back against the counter and brought a hand up to cup her cheek, tilting her face towards him. Her cheeks were flushed, a light dancing in her eyes.

“Snow day,” she said, and he couldn’t stop the chuckle as he bent to kiss her.

He really loved snow days.

It was still early, and Marinette _had_ gone through all the trouble of making them cocoa, so they hunkered down on the couch with their mugs and some blankets and put an old black-and-white movie on. She’d left the curtain by the balcony drawn, and he’d flipped the lights off once they’d picked out a movie. It was perfect: the snow falling outside, the glow of the television illuminating them, and Marinette cuddled against his side. When she grinned up at him, her nose dotted with a smudge of whipped cream, his mug ended up forgotten on the coffee table as he bent towards her and licked her nose clean.

“L-Luka!” she laughed, but she didn’t complain when he took her mug to place it by his own. She also didn’t complain when he laid back on the couch, pulling her on top of him, and began kissing her. He wasn’t really sure what happened in the movie after that. Kissing Marinette was always preferable to old movies, anyway.

Except she actually did kind of want to watch the movie, so she eventually pulled away and settled back against him, her head turning so she could rest her ear over his heart. He held her close as she snuggled against him, his fingers brushing through her loose hair, and together they watched the movie – or maybe they watched the snow fall – until she finally drifted off. She always did first, nights like these. So he scooped her up, and he carried her to their bed, and maybe he pulled the curtain back so they could still see the snow falling through the window.

He’d hate it in the morning, when the harsh winter sun tried to wake him well before he was ready, but it was a pretty sight to nod off to. He climbed under the covers behind Marinette, and even in her sleep she snuggled into his chest as soon as he was there. He fell asleep with her in his arms, watching the snow.

It wasn’t the sun that woke him the next morning, though. Marinette had woken some time before him and had closed the curtain – besides, she’d tell him later, it was still coming down, anyway. The maybe-going-to-skip-them storm had turned into a proper blizzard, which meant _two_ snow days. He liked the sound of that. What had ultimately woken him, though, had been Marinette – or, specifically, Marinette trailing lazy little kisses along his chest and up his neck. He had only grumbled a little, whining that he was _sleeping_ , before she’d climbed on top of him and kissed him deeply. His hands had found her hips as her fingers curled against his chest, and he was suddenly much more awake than he’d been a minute ago.

“Snow day, Lu,” she whispered before kissing him again. Which…yeah, ok. He could sleep more later. Right then, he had a wife to attend to.

It was a snow day, after all.

– V –

It was about a month – maybe two – later when Marinette came into their shared office with a seemingly empty pink box that looked like it had been crushed a bit around the edges in her shaking hands.

“I’ve taken it a hundred times,” she said, a manic little gleam in her eye when he took his headphones off and she finally looked up at him. It was somewhere between excited and terrified, with a little bit of Over-Thinker Disaster Prep Panic Mode Marinette peeking in around the edges. She reached into the box and pulled out what looked like one of those test strips Tom used to check the alkaline levels in the wash sink at the bakery, only the middle was also pink with two lines on it. She’d tipped the box just enough that he could see what were probably the other ninety-nine strips inside. His eyes had grown huge at her words. His throat was a little dry. She couldn’t possibly mean… “I have a doctor’s appointment Wednesday to confirm, but I don’t think a hundred tests in a row can say you’re pregnant without you actually being pregnant, right?”

It had taken him another moment to realize what she was saying, but then he was throwing Claire to the floor and tackling her – _carefully, because holy shit she was pregnant – THEY WERE PREGNANT_! But he scooped her up in his arms, the box of positive tests falling to the ground as he spun her with a whoop. She was laughing when he finally set her down and kissed her, but he was, too, so it wasn’t so bad.

Later, the doctor would confirm that she was in fact a little over two months pregnant, and Marinette would track their baby’s conception back to those snow days when they’d barely left their bed for two days, and Luka would have a whole new reason to think snow days were the best kind of days ever.

– V –

Ten years later, snow days looked a liiiittle different.

Luka supposed that was only natural, though, when you had four kids under ten.

Because snow days couldn’t be spent snuggled under too many blankets, lazily making love to your wife when you had twin three-year-olds and a six-year-old in maternelle and a nine-year-old in CE2 all demanding to be fed. (Or when said wife was halfway through her fourth pregnancy and didn’t really want you touching her just then anyway, thanks, _look at what trouble you already caused do you really want to go again._ )

Besides, they had _new_ Snow Day traditions, like cocoa-flavored Snow Day Pancakes. It wasn’t really a snow day until Papa had been corralled into the kitchen to make breakfast, anyway. Regular days were for cereal or oatmeal or toast with sliced banana and peanut butter. But snow days? Snow days were for _pancakes._

And it wasn’t Marinette’s teasing kisses that woke him up on snow days anymore, either. Well. Not usually. Usually it was Melody shrieking as she dove into their bed, bouncing and crushing their spines (well, _his_ spine, as he’d warned her enough about being careful around maman with the baby through two pregnancies now…) under her tiny feet as she squealed, “It’s snowing! It’s snowing! IT’S SNOOOOOWIIIIIIING!!!” And if that didn’t wake them up, the twins following after her certainly did. He laid there, on his stomach, blinking at Marinette as his brain tried to catch up with the assault as Huey – or maybe it was Louie – thumped tiny fists against his back, but she just grinned at him before pushing herself up, catching their squealing daughter in her arms and blowing kisses against her belly. It was a little awkward, as her own belly was just big enough to keep Melody from cuddling as close as she liked, but that only made Melody pull away after she’d settled to wrap her little arms around Marinette’s bump and nuzzle her cheek against her nightgown, telling her newest brother, “Good morning, Dewey – it’s a snow day!” Which of course then had the twins crawling over him (one of them digging another tiny heel into the middle of his back, _ow_ , while the other kicked at his face), clambering for their own good morning kisses from Maman.

“Snow! Snow!” they parroted, because they adored their big sister and did everything she did.

“I know, I know!” Marinette laughed. She planted a kiss on each of their heads, and they snuggled against her as close as they could, and of course he got kicked _again_. But then she smiled at him as they settled, and he smiled back, and it was all worth it.

God, he loved them. Even more than he loved snow days.

“Think Papa will make us pancakes?” Marinette stage-whispered, and though her head was bent to Melody’s ear her devious eyes were glinting right at him. He returned her smirk, already bracing himself for when their little girl inevitably lunged out of her mother’s arms and over her brothers to tackle him, burrowing against his back as she started crying for _Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!_

“I shouldn’t,” he grumbled, glancing up to shoot a playful glare at his youngest daughter. She giggled and dropped her head on his shoulder, smiling widely at him and begging _pleeeeeeease?_ “I’m an old man, Mellie. I can’t take this abuse.”

“You’re not _old_ , Papa,” she sniffed with all the authority of a six-year-old. It was the same tone she used when she tried to help Marinette correct the Twins – the one that usually got her in more trouble than it should have been worth. Her _I’m a Big Girl_ Voice. “Papa Tom’s _old._ ”

Marinette snickered at that, but he just grinned as Melody leaned closer.

“And you know who’s _really_ old?” she asked, blinking wide eyes at him. He hummed, and she grinned. “Papa J. _He dyes his hair, Papa._ ”

Luka barked out a laugh at that, reaching back to grab her and haul her over his side. She squealed as he held her close, smacking an obnoxious kiss against her cheek as he snuggled her. He couldn’t wait to tell his dad _that_ one.

“Mama Pen says he even dyes his drapes,” Melody giggled. Luka’s eyes shot up to Marinette, who had also frozen. They shared a long, nervous look – one that was practically old hat by now after so many years spent around his eccentric father.

“Er…why…what…why’s he do that, then, Mel?” he asked, and Melody giggled as she reached for her toes, bending over his arm and shrugging.

“Iono. Something about matching his curtains,” she said, and the noise Marinette made was almost inhuman. His eyes shot back to her just as her hand clamped over her mouth, but he wasn’t sure if the vibrant red flooding her face was from rage or amusement. He could practically hear Penny in his head, wearily explaining to some poor gofer that they needed _Deadly Nightshade, not Poison’s Princess_ because _the carpet_ has _to match the drapes._

He wasn’t sure who was going to kill his father, but Jagged Stone was one dead rock star.

“That…” Marinette started, then coughed to clear her throat. She was still grinning when she lowered her hand to wrap her arm around Huey – maybe Louie – again. “That would make your Papa old, too, Mellie.”

“Papa’s old! Papa’s old!” the twins cheered, and just like that the question of _what_ exactly Jagged Stone was dying was forgotten (at least by the impressionable ears, or at least for now). He rolled his eyes as the twins continued their chant and stuck his tongue out at his wife. He had thought, when Marinette had said they’d be having boys, they would be on _his_ side. Male solidarity and all that.

Obviously not, the little traitors.

“Papa doesn’t dye his hair because he’s _old_ ,” Melody huffed. She grinned up at him, proudly displaying her missing front tooth. “Papa dyes his hair because it’s _pretty_.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he teased, kissing her nose. She giggled and snuggled against him again, but before anything else could be said there was a knock on the door. They looked up to see Harmony standing in her favorite yellow pajamas and the purple apron her Aunt Juleka had sent her last summer (the one that had two bats cuddling on the chest and declared _Batter Up!_ beneath the image). She was slowly stirring something in a bowl tucked against her side.

“Papa?” she asked, looking up at him behind her bangs. She’d been growing her hair out for almost a year now. It was almost scary, he thought, how much she looked like her aunt with her bangs in her face like that. “Can…can you help me? I don’t think I did it right.”

She held up the spoon, and thick, gloopy batter fell back into the bowl.

“See?” Marinette giggled, winking at him. “I told you you were making pancakes.”

He reached over, curling his fingers behind her neck and tugging her towards him for a kiss. Melody squealed out a _Gross!_ between them – one her brothers quickly echoed.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she smiled before pecking his lips again. He sighed and hauled Melody over his shoulder, making her squeal again as he carried her over to her sister. He peered down in the bowl and grinned. “All right, why don’t you show me what you did? Looks like we might just need to add some extra buttermilk. It happens sometimes. Colder weather needs more liquid.”

“Ok…” Harmony sighed, and Luka bent down to kiss her forehead. She had been helping her maman in the kitchen since she was little, but she’d taken an interest in learning more lately – in actually making things on her own, without their help. Or at least _minimal_ help.

Luka wasn’t sure how much he liked it. It was just another little reminder that his little ball of chaos wasn’t so little anymore. He didn’t think he was ready for her to be that grown up yet.

“I wanted them done before you woke up,” she said, looking up at him with sad eyes that tore at his heart. “You always make snow day pancakes, and I thought…because you and Maman weren’t up yet, and I wanted to surprise _you_ this time, but then Huey and Louie woke up, and they woke Mellie up, and…”

“And we woke Papa and Maman up!” Melody giggled from his shoulder. She thumped on his back a bit and flailed her legs. He set her down before she accidentally kicked her sister. No one else needed kicked in the face this morning. He knelt before Harmony and took the bowl from her, setting it aside before pulling her in for a hug. Her hands fisted in his old t-shirt, and she sniffled as she burrowed closer.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart,” he said. He pressed a kiss to her temple, smiling. “It was a nice surprise. I love it. But you know what?”

She grunted out a noise to let him know she was listening, but she didn’t exactly answer him. He chuckled and kissed her again.

“I like making pancakes _with_ my little bundle of chaos more than I like being surprised with them already done,” he teased gently, his voice soft, and a watery laugh left her as she bumped her shoulder into his chest. He squeezed her tight before pulling away and winking at her. “Ok, what do you say we go finish these up? Though I don’t know if loading your brothers up with sugar is a good idea…they already seem hyper enough, huh?”

“But we need sugar, Papa!” Melody cried, worming her way into their hug. He laughed as Harmony rolled her eyes, but she still moved back to make room for her sister. “So we can go play in the snow! Can we have a snowball fight? Pleeeeeeease?”

“Nooooo – pancake!” Huey – Louie? – wailed, poking his head up from Marinette’s lap. She grinned at them over Louie’s – Huey’s? – head, where he was snuggled against her chest.

“Pancakes and snowball fights,” she said, grinning as Melody squirmed out of their hug and ran back over to the bed, cheering as she scrambled up and joined the dogpile on her maman. Harmony started to shout when Melody knocked into the bowl of pancake batter, which wobbled but stayed upright, as he started to raise his voice with a warning to _mind your brother!_ Marinette – and Dewey – was fine, though, and she held their little terrors close for a good snuggle. He smiled and pulled Harmony closer, squeezing her as he told her it was ok, though she was still grumbling at her sister. “Sounds perfect.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, kissing Harmony’s head again. She settled into his lap, the pancakes momentarily forgotten. A snow day sort of peace settled over them as the kids calmed for snuggles, but he knew it wouldn’t last. It never did for long, before Melody or the twins or Harmony started screaming and running around – and God help them when Dewey made his grand debut and they had _three_ boys tearing about. He loved it, though, and wouldn’t trade it for the world, because Marinette was right. It was perfect. It was _their_ perfect. “It really does.”


End file.
